Posted: Jul 8, 08 10:26pm
Many years ago, in the late seventies, I was a college student in the San Francisco Bay Area. Photography was a hobby of mine, and I liked developing my own films (back and white). I did work with color as well, but B&W photography, and photo processing was pure art to me.
To fulfill some of my general requirements, I picked photography for an art class. The class was mostly coeds, and I ended up with a female lab partner. My lab partner and I became real flirty, and we spent a lot of time laughing together, not to mention a bunch of groping in the darkroom.
There was this other coed in class who paid a lot of attention to what I was doing, let’s call her Melanie. Sometime halfway through the class, we had a long weekend (something like four days) and this was not a standard holiday for the work force. At the end of the class, the professor handed out our assignment: take some B&Ws of landscape scenes and turn them back in the following week.
As I was putting away the lab equipment away, Melanie approached walked up to me, and pressed a paper in my hand “my phone number”, she said, “call me tomorrow morning when you get up so we can get the assignment done together”.
The next morning, I called her. She asked if I could pick her up in about half an hour, and I said sure. It turned out to be a very nice sunny day, early spring. When I picked her up, her hair was still wet, and she was wearing a somewhat tight sun dress, and there was no mistaking the missing bra. I started getting all sorts of ideas, but I thought that she probably only wants to get the assignment done.
“Let’s drive out to Montara Beach”, she said. “There are plenty of bluffs, and we can use the sunshine and morning to create some great landscape shadow shots”. I agreed, and we headed out in my typical late 70s American gas guzzler, with enough room to sleep a family of four. Montara Beach is along Hwy 1, next to San Francisco. To reach the beach, you have to hike down steep bluffs, so the locals take advantage of the isolation, to go completely nude. On weekends it’s typically filled to capacity. Today, when we got there, there wasn’t a single person out there. Maybe it was the early hour, or the fact that it was not a weekend. When we hiked down, the beach was deserted. When we hit the sand, Melanie shocked me by suddenly lifting her dress over her head, sliding out of her panties, and saying “well, are you going to join me or what?”. I froze in place. My pants were getting super tight, and I had an instant erection that would not go away.
I did not want her to think I am out of control, so I turned around, and started thinking baseball. In the meanwhile Melanie was already in the cold water. I finally calmed down enough to strip down to my birthday suit, and followed her. She was jumping up and down. Her nipples were rock hard from the cold water, and she had goose bumps all over her naked body. Water was forming droplets along her nipples, and all her goose bumps. The imagery was too much for me. I wanted to go in the water to hide my erection, but that water was so cold, I would have shrunk to about an inch. I was damned if I did and damned if I did not.
“What’s the matter?”, said Melanie, “Do you want me to come out”. “Yes, if you don’t mind”, I said. She came out, picked up her sun dress and laid out on it. We had no towels, so she invited me to lay down next her. All this time, she did not making a single suggestion, did not flirt, did not show she was interested. I did not know what to think. That sun dress was small and thin, so our bodies were touching. I turned over to hide my obvious state of arousal, but she said “what’s the matter, don’t you want to talk to me?”. I flipped around, and was now stabbing her in the stomach. Still, not a hint from her.
I finally could not take it any longer, and reached over and kissed her. To my delight, she put everything she had in it. “OK, we’re getting somewhere”, I thought. The sun was glistening over her body, and droplets of water were individually floating on top of her curly pubic hairs. I started licking her nipples, my hand went between her legs. Whatever moisture the ocean had washed away, our kisses and nipple play brought back. She was so wet, my fingers were gliding in and out. I was oblivious to the world around us, but she suddenly moved my hand, and pointed out. About twenty feet from us, a guy was setting up a blanket, and up on the bluff, I could see some Japanese tourists pointing their telephoto lenses down. I came to learn later this place (and all way out to Monterey) was on the Japanese tourists lists.
“Let’s go”, she said. We quickly got dressed, picked up our photo equipment and hiked back up to the car. “The photo assignment”, I mumbled. “we’ll finish it later”, she said.
“Finally, I was starting to think you were gay”, she said on the drive back. “Huh?”, I said “you were acting so cool, I was afraid of doing something you might considered uncivilized”. “No silly, I am into you, but I was very nervous, and when you did not make any moves, I had to take my clothes off to see what would happen”.
Just as we walked into her place, I immediately lifted that sun dress over her head, had her panties down, and pushed her back gently against the rug. Her sliding glass door was open, so she turned around, and her feet were by the door. I immediately went for my favorite position, with my head between her legs. I am not a fan of 69, and prefer to focus on her pleasure and her focusing on mine instead, so this meant that I was laying out with half my naked body out on the balcony, and my tongue and lips sucking and tickling her clit.
She was so charged up from the beach episode, and my roaming hands during the ride back home, that it only took a couple of minutes before she started shaking and squeezing my head hard between her thighs. She held me in the position for a few minutes, and then released me. Needless to say, I was ready to go. I slid up and right into her. She arched her hips up to meet my increasingly rapid thrusts. It did not take me long to reach my climax, but she did not slow down. I was still erect, so I continued and soon I was working my way toward another orgasm. She felt that, and told me that she was getting so turned on by me coming twice inside her without pulling out, She slid her hand between us, and she started fingering herself. “harder”, she kept saying, and as painful as it was for me, I increased my tempo. Soon she arched her back one more time and let out a loud moan. Soon afterward, I had my second climax inside her.
Just as my spasms subsided, I started noticing the pain in my knees. I looked down, and my knees were raw. Her rug was made from hemp rope, and her back was red, but not as bad as my knees. One of the benefits of youth, is that you can take a lot of abuse without feeling the pain. We got up, and she told me “wait, don’t go yet, time to do some photography”. She took out her camera, and started taking pictures of me. I posed for her without thinking twice about it.
We ended up leaving her place and doing some local, but interesting landscapes. The following week, she came up to me in class, and handed me an envelope. Inside, I found the pictures she took of me, along with a small bottle of body cream (for my knees). We had another encounter on campus, but that’s another story.
